The narrow chasm wound through fractured stone, flecked with iron and glowing runes — a remnant mining passage from some ancient realm. Aarav's boots slammed against the loose gravel, breath ragged, vision already swimming.
"We're boxed in," Xena growled, scanning the walls as if she could punch through them.
Aarav turned. Behind them, the mercenaries were converging — five of them this time, light armor shimmering with kinetic absorption plates. Their weapons gleamed with artificial etchings — energy blades mixed with spatial disruptors.
"Any more bright ideas?" she asked.
"Cry?" Aarav offered.
Xena snorted. "Cute. If you die, I will loot your corpse."
They stood their ground as the mercs fanned out.
"Tier-Zero and limping," said one of the mercs, adjusting his gauntlet. "You're not worth the collar fee. Maybe just the bounty tag."
"No collar," Xena spat, drawing her blade — a crescent cleaver etched with violet fangs — the weapon of her clan, the Khrivalan Duskfangs. "You want a corpse? Try it."
The mercenary in front activated his grav hammer, a heavy-bladed tech-club that vibrated with weight-enhancing pulses.
Aarav looked at his hand. His rune dagger flickered weakly, barely half-formed. Solace's voice buzzed inside his head.
"Against them? Odds of survival: less than 6%."
"Thanks for the pep talk!" Aarav shouted mentally.
The mercs moved first.
🗡️ The Battle Begins
Xena darted forward, spinning with fluid brutality. Her cleaver met steel and synthbone, shattering one merc's weapon arm in a single arc. But pain still echoed in her side — her injured ribs made her slower, more predictable.
Aarav took the flank, trying to channel runes for shield pulses and flame lashes — they fizzled.
One of the mercs hurled a gravity net. Aarav rolled aside, barely clearing the zone before the space around it collapsed into an implosion trap.
His rune blade finally stabilized — he jabbed forward, scraping the arm of one attacker. A shallow cut. Useless.
Too slow. Too weak. I'm not built for this... not yet.
Aarav's eyes locked onto Xena — she had two on her now. One merc clipped her shoulder, and blood misted into the air.
Aarav didn't think. He ran forward, blocking a strike with his left arm — and screamed.
The blade sank halfway in. But he didn't stop. His right hand plunged his rune dagger into the merc's throat, twisting as energy sparks burst from the corpse.
Pain blurred his senses. Something inside him shifted — cracked.
Then something… called.
From inside. From the flame.
The Ember Awakens
The core of Vael'Zorath, long-dormant, suddenly ignited.
It wasn't a peaceful bloom. It was a rupture — an eruption of molten hatred and battle-hunger.
The blood in his veins boiled. Not metaphorically.
Aarav screamed — not from pain, but from something deeper. Something that tore through his limbs and whispered madness into his ears.
His muscles seized and then twitched unnaturally, popping, bulking, repairing in violent pulses.
The corpse of the merc nearby — still twitching — disintegrated into ash. Not just his body. His memories — fragmented and broken — slithered into Aarav's mind. Techniques. Pressure points. Timing.
"Emberborn."The word rose in his mind like a branded flame.
🔥 Vael'Zorath – Tier 1: Emberborn
Blood ignites under pressure
Physical reflexes spike violently
Access granted: Ruin Technique – Infernal Pulse
Aarav's arm snapped forward as if possessed, and with it came a blast of concussive fire, shaped like a spiral fracturing out of his palm.
It incinerated one of the mercenaries.
The others staggered.
Then… a voice. Not Solace. Not Xena. Not even Aarav's own.
"You are mine now."
The Invader Will flooded his mind, oozing through thoughts, cracking emotional walls.
Ruin them all. Eat their cores. Break the girl. BURN.
But then, faint — so faint — came another pulse.
A resonance. Calm. Centered.
The Elarion Vein, nested in the second space within his body, stirred. Like a sleeping guardian sensing a breach.
A spiral of stars flared in his mind's eye — five interlocking stars — and with them came pressure.
Aarav gasped, staggering back. His vision flickered between reality and ruin. The Invader tried to press in again, but the spiral pushed back.
The corruption didn't retreat. It coiled, seethed, and... waited.
Aarav clutched his head, panting. He couldn't fight both foes at once — not the mercs and not his own bloodline.
He chose survival.
Aarav blinked.
He could feel the motion of the other mercs. The one behind him — he twisted instinctively and slammed his fist into the man's gut.
Infernal Pulse.
A shockwave of heat exploded outward. The merc screamed, armor melting around the ribs, and was flung backwards into a wall of jagged rock.
Xena looked over, her blade mid-swing. "What... in the Veins...?"
Aarav turned slowly, fire crackling from his fingertips. "I... think I just leveled up."
His heartbeat was a drum. The pain was gone. Replaced by raw need. His body still hurt — but it was alive.
So this is Tier One. Emberborn... huh. Kinda feels like cheating.
He raised his arm again, staring at the faint lines of heat energy coursing along his forearm. The flame didn't hurt him — it belonged to him.
Let's see what else this bloodline can do.
A final squad of mercenaries appeared at the far edge of the tunnel — four strong, heavy armor, bigger weapons.
"Still wanna loot my corpse?" Aarav asked Xena without looking at her.
She stared, eyes narrowed. "Let's see if you last more than a minute this time."
Aarav smirked. Flame erupted around his legs as he launched forward — not running — blasting into motion.